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Alexander (Song)
"Alexander" is the fourth track of The Room Beneath New Albion. Performers Paul Shapera as "Alexander" Lyrics ALEXANDER: (spoken) Meanwhile, in my neck of the woods, some of my boys come by to say they think they found a guy who might know a little something about a problem we been having with some of our bootleg Dolls going missing. CHORUS: We gotta mister, we gotta bird who call We gotta problem we gotta thief who's stealing our Dolls We gotta mister, we think who knows a few things We got some ways to make a silent bird wanna sing All day, sing your pain away ALEXANDER: There's not much left, I'm sorry ,oh my darling But there's not much left, oh Lord knows, now of me There's not much left, a mattress on an empty bed And there's not much left, oh Lord knows, here of me Mama squealed, "you best be stealin' or you're feelin' on you Beatings, my boy, like you won't believe Your brother does it and your cousins and they love it Ah but look at you, you pansy gawdamn thing" So each I'd go out, but alas I just was not cut out For thieving, so deceiving her I tried To earn by other means but none of them would keep her pleased And my secrets on them streets never survived There's not much left, I'm sorry, oh my darling But there's not much left, oh Lord knows, now of me There's not much left, a mattress on an empty bed And there's not much left, oh Lord knows, here of me My uncle sneered, he said, "bring the little pansy here He just needs a little 'juice' to man him up" The bourbon stung, but while they laughed I tell you, son it brung to me some sweet, warm comfort finally come I learned to drink the hard stuff and my anger I found sure enough Was always there for me to drag on up I learned to drink enough to laugh and rage and lose all touch With giving a blind piss for anyone There's not much left, I'm sorry, oh my darling But there's not much left, oh Lord knows, now of me There's not much left, a mattress on an empty bed And there's not much left, oh Lord knows, here of me When Mama dies, I earned respect because I did not cry and long since I had sheathed my softer sheen My brother reigned, the boss, until the Mouse took him apart And now the mob crown hovers over me I run a business bathed in blood and bootleg Dolls and it all hinges on a slapstick masquerade And somewhere there, well it is possible a still care But truly, I hope not for my own sake A violent man with a bourbon in my hand This mask is all that's left here, don't you see? A cat o' nine with which I lash and crack the back of life and all I know, but I assure you mostly me 'Cause there's not much left, I'm sorry, oh my darling But there's not much left, oh Lord knows, now of me There's not much left, a mattress on an empty bed And there's not much left, oh Lord knows, here of me CHORUS: We gotta mister, we gotta songbird who sang We're gonna need a mop to clean up, but here's the thing We got albinos underground, you know how they say Well there's this girl, for years he said, she's come up to take All astray, take our Dolls away Category:Song